Disfunction
by forevergamergirl
Summary: France has been with countless people; he has seen all of the most beautiful parts of love. So why does a nation that clearly has NO experience in such matters make him question that? Rated T for France's thought process... OHONHONHON.


France had been in bed with a countless number of people (_sometimes at the same time, ohonhonhon_) before his encounter with England. So it was probably justified that he had not expected there to be so many _firsts_ for him. It was the first time he could recall being on the "bottom", for starters. France had protested quite a bit at this turn of events, but England had simply smirked down at him (rather _evilly_, France thought) before asking the older nation what he was going to _do _about it.

Curse Britannia and his freakish pirate strength.

Secondly, France could not remember one sexual act he had seen in the course of his life having been carried out so _clumsily_. England seemed to be under the impression that being increasingly rough on his partner was the best way to show passion. It was almost painful, the way the island nation had gripped his body with his coarse, calloused hands…

Oh, mon dieu, the hands.

France could forgive England's clear lack of knowledge about scented moisturizers, (although it pained him greatly to do so) but one thing he expected out of all of his lovers was proper hand placement. Because, really, as long as other parts of your body are… _busy, _you shouldn't just have the most flexible parts of your body just hanging there like useless meat sacks. Because meat sacks are NOT sexy, and neither is your partner having to guide your hands FOR you. Honestly, France was a little disappointed in England. Sure, he had know that a guy who talked to unicorns was going to be a hopeless virgin (_PLEASE let England be a virgin, I wouldn't wish this experience on any other whore he could pick up_) but you would think there was enough British porn out there for England to at least have picked up the basics.

Not to mention that they didn't even get to do it in the dark. France had always found sex in muted lighting to add a certain ambiance that was _quite _a turn on. And yet after many banged heads on the bed frame, swearing in that horrible language of him, and hisses of _"YOU'RE DOING IT __**WRONG**__",_ it was France himself who had finally been exasperated enough to flick on the lights before trying to return to what little was left of his arousal.

After full minutes of continuing on in this fashion, France found himself lying in bed next to a very flustered Brit. The silence was penetrating… (_ohonhonhon, that sounds wrong)_

England angled his head slightly to face his first-time lover. His lips were pressed in a tight line.

"I suppose this won't fair well compared to your past experiences, hmmm?" he rasped, his voice almost accusatory in tone, as well as a bit defensive.

France bit his lip to hold back laughter. It was funny. England was funny. Why would you even need to ask such a silly question? Of course he could never hope to compare to past experiences of the _République française_! In fact, France couldn't think of a game more fun than informing England of this fact. He grinned and turned to the island nation so as to better see his reaction. My, England was red in the face, wasn't he ? The Brit had somehow managed to look both resentful and embarrased and…

Somewhat sad, actually.

France's smile faded.

The older nation slowly lolled his head to the side so that he was staring up at the ceiling. Perhaps England's question would be harder to answer than he first anticipated. But after a while of careful consideration (and much studying of ceiling tile), he think he had finally come up with the right words. He cleared his throat loudly to break the silence, effectivly making England jump in surprise.

« Well, mon petit lapin, sex for me is very much like any other recrational activity. It is suggested that you do it with someone who knows what they are doing. »

England swallowed visibly at this remark before turning away so France could no longer see his face.

« Ah. I see. »

Without giving the slightest bit of warning (when had he ever ?) France wrapped his arms around the younger one. England gave a slight grunt of protest, but this was largely ignored.

« Let me finish, » the frenchman whispered. « It is SUGGESTED to it with someone who knows what they are doing… but it really is better to just do it with the idiot you love. »

England's jerked away from his lover and stared at him incredulously.

« It… France, I… »

_**SMACK.**_

« OW ! Angleterre, what is the meaning of this! You cannot just him my beautiful face in that manner! »

« Don't call me an idiot, Frog. »

You know you're in deep when you begin to find your own failed chemistry with someone to be terribly romantic.


End file.
